Like a Child

Stop being so childish. Grow up. Act your age…reprimands that as an adult I have both given and received. It is true – there is a time to grow up and learn to deal with things in an adult fashion. In 1 Corinthians 13:11 Paul makes this observation about himself: “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” (NIV) Like Paul, I want to put my childish ways behind me. I have to remind myself that there is no longer a place for foot stomping, temper tantrums or a world view that revolves around ‘me, me me’...as tempting as they may sound.

But there is a place for child-likeness. There is a place for a child’s heart. Jesus says so. In a world that didn’t value the young, Jesus placed great worth upon these little ones. We are familiar with the image of him blessing the children, but there’s more to it than that. Look closely at the words Jesus spoke:

“Some people brought their little children to Jesus so he could touch them, but his followers told them to stop. When Jesus saw this, he was upset and said to them, "Let the little children come to me. Don't stop them, because the kingdom of God belongs to people who are like these children. I tell you the truth, you must accept the kingdom of God as if you were a little child, or you will never enter it." Then Jesus took the children in his arms, put his hands on them, and blessed them. (Mark 10:13-16; NCV, emphasis mine)

With a toddler of my own, I’m beginning to get a sense of what he was talking about. There is no doubt in my mind that God has a special place in his heart for children. Otherwise, why would that beautiful, whimsical and sheer delightful world of the child have been part of his plan? Surely we could have been born knowing what we needed to know, self-reliant and independent from the get go. There is something important about the process of growing up, something of which we are never supposed to forget. As I watch the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual development of my son, I can’t help but learn a lot about myself, my faith and my God in the process.

Two-year-old Possum loves the Sabbath School lesson. He had heard the same story every night for a month but was still excited by it, his little mind comprehending the basics of the account. Peter and John came across a lame man, and in the name of Jesus were able to heal him. Every night Possum questioned why the man couldn’t walk and every night I explained that his legs were ‘broken’ but that through the power of Jesus he was healed and could walk again. There were hoorays and claps from my little one when the man stood up upon his healing. By the end of the month he knew the story so well he could complete the sentences and help tell the narrative.

A few weeks later we were out at the clothesline hanging out the never-ending mountain of washing that our household seems to generate. There was a large beetle under the clothesline that was distinctly…well…dead. All six feet were in the air and the beetle lay motionless on its back. Possum, curious, went to investigate.

“Mummy, why beetle not moving?” he asked me, earnest eyes looking for the explanation that would satisfy his thirst for knowledge.

“Because the beetle is dead, darling,” I replied. He had a basic knowledge of death having just been to the funeral of a much-loved church member.

“Like Rosie died?” he asked, just checking his understanding.

“That’s right, just like Rosie,” I responded, pegging another item on the line. Little Possum pondered for a moment and crouched down on his haunches over the beetle, like only a toddler can. With the confident voice of authority he spoke.

“In the name of Jesus, stand up and walk.” I stifled my giggles of delight at his faith and knelt over the beetle with him, explaining that although Jesus could heal the beetle, we would probably have to wait until he came back again and took us all back to live with him for that to happen. But the magnitude of Possum's statement struck me. He had greater faith than I. And upon reflection, I may not have been surprised to see the beetle roll over and start walking. What I had processed and rationalised through my adult mind as an impossibility, Possum viewed as an opportunity for God to heal. The story is cute, but more importantly it is a profound example of what it means to have faith like a child.

I have also learned the power of forgiveness from Possum. We had a particularly trying Tuesday where he was being what can only be described as two (anyone with a toddler will understand). He had been reprimanded severely for running away from me at playgroup.

Later that night at bedtime prayers I took the opportunity to have our first real discussion about sin and how we can ask Jesus to forgive us. A simplistic explanation, yes, but it was enough for a two-year-old to grasp. When I asked Possum what he had done that was wrong he said very sincerely, “My runned ‘way from Mummy.” I told him how he could pray and ask Jesus to forgive him and everything would be OK again. As he bowed his head, tears filled my eyes as the little voice next to me said, “Dear Jesus, please ‘give me for running ‘way from Mummy. Amen.” Opening my eyes I looked upon his face to see it glowing. I can honestly say he felt the burden of sin lifted from his tiny shoulders. He felt and knew the power of forgiveness. I don’t know if I can ever recall experiencing that myself in such a tangible way, but through my little boy I was privileged to bear witness to another one of heaven’s miracles.

In The Adventist Home, Ellen G White talks about how powerful the presence of God can be in our little ones’ lives. Commenting on Jesus words in Mark 10, she writes:

He knew that these children would listen to His counsel and accept Him as their Redeemer, while those who were worldly-wise and hardhearted would be less likely to follow Him and find a place in the kingdom of God. These little ones, by coming to Christ and receiving His advice and benediction, had His image and His gracious words stamped upon their plastic minds, never to be effaced. We should learn a lesson from this act of Christ, that the hearts of the young are most susceptible to the teachings of Christianity, easy to influence toward piety and virtue, and strong to retain the impressions received. (page 275)

I can only agree wholeheartedly. Without the cynicism, head knowledge and rational thought that accompanies growing up, I believe our littlest disciples truly experience God in a way that we can only imagine. Possum has not yet been hardened by the world, he does not have the understanding to question on a logical or scientific or rational basis. He purely believes in a God who loves him and experiences first hand the expression of that love. Sure, he’s got a lot to learn. (Just the other day he was asked who made the stars – his answer? Nanny Thel. Now as much as that pleased Nanny Thel, we have a long way to go in the spiritual education of our beautiful son!) However the fact remains that God is touching his heart now. God doesn’t wait until our children reach 5 or 10 or 15 – he speaks to them and through them from the moment they are born – and we as parents and caregivers can facilitate that process and partner with God in shaping and moulding his most wonderful works of art.

As a parent I am delighted by Possum's mental development and love to hear his growing vocabulary. I am thrilled at his physical development and get a kick out of watching him ride a bike without training wheels. I am excited by his emotional development and am happy when he shows concern for a crying friend. But my greatest joy comes from watching him develop a relationship with God. The gentle sounds of him singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ to himself before going to sleep; when he points out the ‘bootiful’ sunset that Jesus has made; when he speaks words of life to a dead beetle – these are the moments I treasure most. Become like a child? I’m trying, Lord. For the kingdom of God belongs to people such as this.

The Waiting Game

According to the ticker on my computer, I have exactly 23 days to go before I reach full term with this pregnancy. In reality, it's probably going to be half that. So I've reached that phase where I'm just, well, waiting!

The twins are growing beautifully and last Wednesday were approximately 5lb 12oz according to the ultrasound. By now they have probably hit the 6lb mark. Not bad for two! But the downside is they are running out of room...and there's only so far I can stretch. Apparently I'm stretchier than I realised, although the reverse stretchiness that is required after the birth...well, let's just say I'm not counting my breath on ever wearing a bikini again!!! Which, by the way, I have no problems with whatsoever. Stretch marks and extra skin are the least of my concerns and pale into such insignificance compared with the joy I've had at carrying my boys.

But I do wonder when they are going to arrive. Today is Labour Day in Queensland - so I don't know if that's a good thing or not!! I could give a new definition to the term, perhaps its true meaning afterall. None of this marching on parliament for better working conditions - check out your local maternity hospital instead.

Sleep is a challenging prospect with two babies wriggling around. Hiccups from the boys now feel like small earthquakes in my nether regions, which is not exactly what I would call comfortable. And if either of them decide to stretch lengthways, I'm in real strife! There's just no more room and they run into ribs and pelvis...and a range of internal organs that I'm quite attached to and still need.

I'm not ready for them to come just yet though -although I'm sure I would cope if they did. I'm happy for them to stay put for another week. And I hope it doesn't sound like I'm complaining because I'm honestly not - just making a few observations about what being 36+ weeks pregnant with twins is like!

What a privilege it is, however, to actively partner the Creator in creating new life. I am so blessed.